Unscareable
by x-Bademancer-x
Summary: As "iParty With Victorious" has taught us, nothing can scare Beck. That is, until Jade gives him the news of his life. Bade oneshot. Rated T to be safe.


**I could keep apologizing for not updating like I always do, but that would be hopelessly, pitifully redundant. So, I'll just jump straight into the background for this story idea. I saw "iParty With Victorious" and loved it. I've watched it about 4 times =P I usually don't do FF's like this, but this just barely stays within my integrity xP Anyway, I loved the idea of Beck being, as Jade calls it, "unscareable". Then I got to thinking: what's the one thing that can scare almost any guy? =D Then I got this evil little idea in my head to scare Beck and, well...just read and find out. **

**I originally planned it as more of a drabble than a full-blown oneshot, but it's kind of in between. A drab-shot? A oneble? A droneshot? I don't know. Haha =)**

**As always, enjoy =)**

**-CheckItOutGirl=)**

**A/N: Jade's p.o.v. It's 5 years in the future, and Beck and Jade are married and have their own place. I make a reference to the "bleeding roses" from one of my other Bade stories, "Victorious, At Last". You can check that out too if you want...hint hint ;) Check out my profile for things you should know to check out by now...okay, read.**

**. . .**

_Unscareable_

There he is. Making breakfast every morning like always. Completely oblivious.

Okay, deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Just breathe. He won't be scared, right? He probably won't even react. He'll be completely unfazed, maybe even smile. What am I thinking, of course he'll smile! He's going to be given the role of a lifetime...he'd love that. But what if he's not ready? Oh, God...

Oh, jeez, okay; feeling dizzy. My head's swimming. Breathe slower, you're hyperventilating. You _never _get nervous. In...out...in...out.

My eyes are trailing all over the place, white spots randomly dotting my line of vision. I can't think straight. My usual, black-nailed hand desperately clutches at the kitchen door frame for support as my mind and eyes continue to wander rapidly. But as they suddenly land on the white-bordered picture on the wall, a new courage lights inside me, invigorating and threatening to all my new fears. It's Beck's and my wedding picture; him with his soft black locks neatly slicked back, pearly-white smile sparkling with elation. His hand is wrapped tightly around mine, his wedding band gleaming proudly against his tan ring finger. And there I am beside him—donning a simple white gown surprisingly well for someone who detests the color and had never worn it in her life before then—absolutely, completely beaming, holding a bouquet of bleeding roses.

I remove my hand lightly resting on my stomach and reach up to touch it, stroking the image of Beck in his tuxedo, forever bound to me. Okay, I can do this.

I slowly come out from behind the door frame, left hand unclenched from it and sliding around my body awkwardly, as if I were hugging myself. My right hand twirls the belt of my purple robe, hopelessly fiddling with it out of nervous habit as my black slippers slap softly against the kitchen tiles.

Beck's still stirring his signature pancake mix, and I smile at his back as I lean against the wall, not wanting to make the first move, perfectly content admiring him, leaving him contently ignorant.

But then he turns around to get some sugar from the table, he can't help but notice me right in front of him.

"Hey, beautiful," he says warmly with his ever-welcoming grin. "How goes it?"

"Um...good...good."

Beck is immediately on his toes, knowing something's up, confusion and concern marking his features. "Are you okay?" he tentatively asks, starting towards me.

"Just a little tired. I'm not...feeling that well," I say with a shrug, trying desperately to dance around the truth.

Not totally convinced but sated, he replies lightly, "Well, my pancakes can make anyone feel better." He strides over and plants a gentle kiss on my lips, and I let myself sink into it, savoring the feel of his lips on mine. He never fails to work his magic on me and calm me down.

Then he starts to pull away and get back to cooking, and my newly-found courage starts to die, slowly being murdered by the vicious butterflies in my stomach.

Before it died completely, I had just enough time to shakily force from my throat, "B-Beck? Can you sit down?"

I didn't mean to startle him again, I really didn't. But when you're trying to broach news as big as this, you can't help it. Beck's blissful grin quickly fades, and resumes it's previously concerned appearance, but more alarmed now. He pulls out a chair from the kitchen table and slowly sits down. "Okay, what's up?"

I sit down too, and start fiddling with my hands in my lap under the table, right foot tapping nervously, eyes darting everywhere but him. Suddenly I'm having trouble breathing again. In, out, in, out...

I take an immensely deep breath and start. "Beck...do...do you remember a few years ago?"

Okay, I should've expected the confusion on his face to grow. "A few years ago" could mean anything. I try again.

"When Sikowitz did everything he could to try and scare you?"

His speech is slow and calculating, if nothing else. "Yes...why?"

"And are you still...well...unscareable?"

Awkwardly laughing, he responds, "I guess so. Why?"

I can't help but groan, wishing the world would tell him for me. Wishing something, _anything _else but me could tell him the words that I'm having trouble pushing past my lips. My foot is tapping wilder now against the tiles, black slippers making a loud slapping noise, and I'm twirling a piece of my long, colored hair.

"Beck...I'm...well, I'm...pregnant."

Beck's mouth drops open in pure shock, finally experiencing "true terror", as Sikowitz called it once so long ago.

And then he faints off his chair.


End file.
